pegleghegel
Virgin
- Joined
- Apr 28, 2014
- Posts
- 18
Pubic Quatrains
Oh hoary thatch that beckons so,
And draws me where I ought not go,
Am I a mere benighted knave?
(And would it kill you, dear, to shave?)
Hail, landing strip, brave tuft of hair,
That juts and struts 'twixt skin so bare,
And crowns the wonder of her pearl.
(Sometimes I'm glad I'm not a girl.)
But furrowed clefts bereft of hair
Are now in favor everywhere,
And sad the man at razor's edge
Who'd much prefer a dusky hedge.
Oh hoary thatch that beckons so,
And draws me where I ought not go,
Am I a mere benighted knave?
(And would it kill you, dear, to shave?)
Hail, landing strip, brave tuft of hair,
That juts and struts 'twixt skin so bare,
And crowns the wonder of her pearl.
(Sometimes I'm glad I'm not a girl.)
But furrowed clefts bereft of hair
Are now in favor everywhere,
And sad the man at razor's edge
Who'd much prefer a dusky hedge.